A series of Fortunate events

As the train began it’s journey I again caught the gaze of our beautiful friend. No...the cute old lady ;). She waved and blew me a kiss as I made my way back to my ever hallowed seat. No sooner had I gotten comfortable with my scarf neatly arranged to block out the delightful aroma of our cabin mate, when there she was again, bracing herself on the doorway with a wince of pain across her face. She’d made her way across her car to request our company to the dining car for dinner and drinks. Call it what you may, karma, the golden rule, a tender mercy, or just plan ole’ good luck. We gleefully accepted and helped her through the 5 or 6 cars to the dining car where we spent the next 3 hours talking about her amazing life while enjoying some yummy sandwiches and drinks. The wisdom of time on life, love, adventure, and the realities and splendor of the high life were the main topics.

She then invited us to sit with her in her seat area; she had 4 seats all to herself. We agreed with a smile and enjoyed the remainder of our ride in the luxury of cushioned chairs listening with great anticipation to the words of every story she mustered up to share with us. She even serenaded us—twice! There will be more to come on her story in a later post.

Sadly, the next stop brought the people that had actually reserved those seats and we cheerfully headed back to the baggage area (we chose a different one this time to avoid…well, you understand). How grateful we were that even 4 hours of our 5 hour ride was in the company of such a great woman with such wonderful accommodations.

The last hour was filled with light chatter with whoever would talk to me about Budapest or where they were from or us answering any questions they could pull together in broken English about where we’re from and where in the US they’ve been or want to go. It was, to date, the most perfect train ride we’ve had yet. Everyone was so friendly, even the smelly guy. I talked to him for a bit when I went to grab my laptop out of my bag. I invited him to sit inside but he politely declined. He actually had paid for a seat but due to some heart and lung issues he was unable to sit in his assigned seat and had determined the baggage car the next best option. Sad. I felt bad for judging him. He just looked kinda scary with how disheveled, greasy, and quite literally dirty he was, like really really. But I made him smile so we’re friends now.

We spoke with the conductor and arranged for Mrs. Totlynn Jackson, our singer friend, to receive help and a wheelchair upon her arrival to her stop and said our goodbyes as we rolled in different directions. She, in a wheelchair to a taxi and us, continuing on the train to Munich.